


A Table Set for Two

by darlingjegulus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Business Meeting, Choking, Degradation, Dinner, Dominant Tom Riddle, F/M, Female Reader, Light Sadism, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Seduction, Submission, Submissive Reader, doesn't use y/n, restaurant, this is my first smut go easy on me, tom is a brat tamer oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27261346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingjegulus/pseuds/darlingjegulus
Summary: Tom invites a wealthy woman to enjoy dinner with him at a fancy restaurant.What happens next is something she couldn't dare resist.
Relationships: Tom Riddle & Reader, Tom Riddle/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 87





	A Table Set for Two

She looks at him with fascination.  
To deny his beauty would be to tell a vicious lie, deemed as heretical by all those who heard the words. One second worth of careful gazing will demonstrate as much. He has such beautiful skin, a pale shade of beige, not a single blemish there to tarnish the perfect canvas he maintained. He had a jaw with the sharp precision of a blade, appearing capable of slicing through flesh, among other surfaces begging to be damaged. Cheekbones were found up higher on his face, hollow space beneath them, giving an impression of a more gaunt expression when paired with the muted hues of his complexion. Hair, perfectly combed, dark and gorgeous, no doubt addressed with such superior care, finding necessity in appearing with utmost flawlessness. And those eyes, darker than expected of any natural human, and yet so alluring, drawing a person in. There was something about those eyes that was so unnerving and so heartstopping all the same. When he stared at you, it was clear all his focus was locked onto you and yourself only, his greatest ambition of that moment being the ability to find success in enchanting something out of you. 

Tom Riddle observes his guest with a more tactical approach.  
Everyone always tries to impress him. This girl was no different. He had known of her great wealth before arranging this meeting; in fact, it was the reason for its existence in the first place. But even if he had been carelessly unaware, that fact would have become obvious within seconds. She had her hair done up nicely, clearly the work of someone with talent. It was wrapped up on the back of her head, close to the top, in a tidy swirl of locks, held firm in place. Earrings reside in her ear lobes, made from a stone of an expensive variety, characterized by a bright gleam whenever light refracted off them. She wears make-up, simple around the eyes, though demanding attention with a subtle gloss. That face is pretty enough. It is, however, the outfit that screams money. At first glance the gown seems to be nothing more than a mere tight-fitting cocktail dress, standard wear for a woman her age. The details add an affluent personality. Black silk fabric is embroidered with gold markings, running both along the long wrist-length sleeves and down the plunging neckline, exposing a great deal of cleavage. Around her shoulders rests a coat made from the fur of some creature, long irrelevant. 

Tom has to appreciate the effort being made solely for his enjoyment. The concept of true love is beyond lost on him, nothing that he ever thinks about. A man has his desires though, and the sight of a beautiful woman seeks to quench those desires. His eyes admire her figure, latched onto her chest for some time, cherishing the view she has provided, the curves of her breasts hidden partially by fabric, almost begging those around to look closely. Tom gives in to this hope, if only as a way to reaffirm his intentions for this evening, ensuring his future satisfaction. 

The location for their meeting was designated to be in a Muggle restaurant. That was a calculated move, and a great sacrifice on his part. To be surrounded by humans whom he considered to be unworthy of even truly maintaining their life for hours was a daunting task. It had to be done. Nobody would expect to find him in such a place. Better yet, it would be nearly impossible to be overheard. Other conversations would fill the room, bringing an easy distraction from the more important topic discussion taking place between these two. 

Tom had arrived early and ordered two bottles of red wine, as a precaution in case one was not enough. He received a pair of glasses to match and set to filling them to half capacity: a decent starting point. Alcohol would numb the senses and break down all forms of self-control. The amount just had to be perfect. With the right number of sips, this girl would be easier to work with and more cooperative. Too much, and efforts became futile. Balance was principal.

He slides one of the glasses over to her and takes the other for himself.  
“I assume you know why you’re here.”  
That voice is soft spoken, gentle even. She meets it with a playful smile.  
“Not a clue,” A generous sip of wine is taken, “Enlighten me.”

He leans in and flashes her a charming grin, one that radiates over the girl, somehow managing to fill her with warmth. Such a handsome smile worked wonders like that.

“I find it in my best interest to become better acquainted with you. And I would have no doubts believing that such a concept is familiar to you as well.”

No lie can be detected buried deep in those sentences. It was the truth. A person such as her could be influential for his movement. Money seemed to talk more loudly than any words, especially in any context that could even have the potential of being misconstrued with political intent. The matter was simple; he needed loyal followers. These followers could be gained in a multitude of ways, but all methods could be classified into two different paths: devotion willingly volunteered and manipulation through intimidation. This woman could help with both. Weak people follow power, and there are few better ways to gain power over people than through wealth and status. A person like her was intriguing. To spot her on the side of the Death Eaters, whether or not it be unbeknownst to her, had the possibility of being the push some people would need to envelop themselves under the leadership Tom provided. Of course, there was also the obvious. Wealth funded purchases. These purchases could go towards fostering the preservation of the Death Eaters, securing the very foundation on which it rested. They could also fund methods of converting non-believers, both clean and messy.  
She would never need to know the details for what she was sponsoring. 

“I must be important for you to trouble yourself with all this.”

“You are more important than you will likely ever know.”  
She takes another long drink from her glass as she glances off to the side, amusement rushing to her face. Tom had a way with words. Everything he said was dripping with charisma. It was challenging to remain serious. The temptation to become the spitting image of a flirtatious schoolgirl was hard to fight. A tint of pink came to her cheeks regardless, pushing through the layer of makeup to expose itself. Flattery worked well on this woman, something that pleased Riddle to a great extent. A combination of dashing compliments and a surplus of wine was lethal in the most positive way. It was the kind of manipulation Tom was best at, without failure.

“I think we could make a wonderful partnership, you know. Pardon me if it sounds much too forward, but there’s just something about you that I find myself quite attracted to.”

Her head is rested into her hand as she leans forward, locking her eyes onto him, scanning his features just as she had done before. The corner of her mouth twitches upward.  
“Oh, so this was your elaborate way of asking me out?”

He brings the glass up to his lips.  
“Something like that.”

The feeling inside her is one of happiness. This was a man whom she had known for the span of a single conversation and yet she felt so in tune with him, her own intentions perfectly aligned with his. Tom gave off an aura of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. There was such confidence exuding off his skin, and nonchalant confidence at that. He appeared to own every room he occupied with ease, fitting in everywhere. She still sensed some mystery from him. The confirmation of his intentions (as far as she was concerned) opened up more questions than were answered. What was it about her that was so enticing to him? They had never met before this invitation was extended. He had not a clue what she looked like nor anything about her personality. All he had was a name and a way to contact her. She assumed Tom Riddle had taken a huge leap of faith; in a way, he had. 

She dared to request an answer.  
“Why me?”

It stumps him for a moment. Using the cliche of calling her beautiful would obviously not work. He decides to lay into her elevated status.  
“I heard good things about you. Others told me just how attractive you were, but I’ll admit I failed to believe them so easily. Had to see for myself.” 

“And?”

“I’m impressed.”

Their food arrives just as they exchange smiles. Plates full of pasta and different appetizers fill the table, heat rising up from the wonderfully cooked noodles. The woman eyes all the dishes with supreme hunger, hardly able to contain her excitement. Naturally, she was used to exquisite meals identical to this one, though the idea of having the privilege of sharing it with Tom made everything all the more tempting. 

He ate slowly, watching his companion consume everything at a much faster rate. The night was going better than expected. It was assumed that the girl would put forth some resistance, call his bluff even. The contrary could not be more true. She had played stupidly into his trap and would come to pay the price in all predictable eventualities. 

Attention is drawn back towards the now empty glass perched in front of her. Tom takes the bottle in his hands and pours it slowly, not stopping until the glass is at near maximum capacity. Not exactly what they are designed to hold, but much better suited to the needs of the evening. 

“Don’t let this good wine go to waste.”  
It’s a command disguised as a pleasant request. This is detected, and the glass is taken back in hand, washing down another bite of pasta with the delicious concoction. 

Bite after bite, the plates are finished off, cleaned off in entirety. Tom takes the opportunity to move his chair to be right besides hers just as one of the waiters comes over to provide them with their check. 

“Will that be all for tonight?”

“Yes, thank you. We have everything we need right here.”

His hand is moved towards her from the concealment of the table, long, slender fingers sliding just underneath the bottom of that gorgeous black dress and tightening their grasp onto the inside of her thigh. It is noticeable when her breath hitches at the touch, tensing up. Tom looks at her as if to signal the girl to suppress her reaction, to stifle any noise that may be coming up to the back of her throat. She obeys this wish, cautiously biting at he lip to avoid being noticed by any of the other patrons or the employees. Fingers dare to move further up on her leg as he turns his gaze back to the waiter smiling at them. 

In a manner insinuating that the spell came to him so gracefully, Tom put the waiter under the direct influence of the Imperius Curse. He had no intention of paying for their meals; doing so would be providing gratitude to the very people that were, in his eyes, the most despicable members of sophisticated society. The move brought satisfaction. Little victories were so crucial when in war, and any opportunity to damage the livelihood of even one muggle was an opportunity that should be taken. 

The pair were left alone. Tom slowly removed his grip on her thigh, knowing that his influence on her had taken hold. He stands and pushes in his chair, extending a hand out. She takes it, shock clear in those eyes of hers, both taken aback and yet still interested.

“Allow me to take you home with me.” Another command disguised as a request.

“I don’t know if-”

“I’m afraid I must insist.” His tone lacks a threatening quality, but it still gives the impression that denying such a request was a bad idea. 

Voices start pouring into her head, screaming that this was a bad idea. None of them could stop what was about to happen. Tom was overly charming, and god damn was he gorgeous. It was clear he wanted her in more ways than she had thought, and who was she to deny him the satisfaction?

She could only hope to be everything he wanted.

They apparate back to the building Tom calls home. It is a temporary arrangement, good enough to suit any needs before relocation becomes necessary. She follows him, hand in hand, observing the exterior for moments before she is dragged inside and the door is closed.

He can no longer hold on. As was previously said, a man has his desires, and what better way to fulfill them than with a beautiful woman who wanted you just as badly? Tom kisses her, hands grabbing onto her face and pulling her closer to him. There is so much hunger in that kiss. In that moment, he has become the lion, prowling the Serengeti, searching for their next feast, and she has transformed into a gazelle, whose only choices are to attempt to flee or welcome the predator willingly. The second choice is much more ideal. 

They had just enjoyed a feast of their own. Let this be their seconds.

Clumsy feet are guided down the halls, painted a dark color, blocking out much light from being present in any of the rooms. A hand grabs the knob of the farthest door on the right side, twisting and giving way, exposing the room inside. The ceilings are high, and the walls are in the same situation as those of the hallway, dark to conceal away much light. All windows are closed, blinds shut. The only source of light is the chandelier suspended from above, dimmed, giving the perfect ambience. 

Tom grips hard onto her waist, pulling her with him as he moves backward. The moment his body collides with the wall, the kiss is broken and one hand is quickly transitioned to hold the side of her neck, adding pressure, thumb brushing hard over her chins and lips. Their eyes meet, and those dark orbs became more frightening than they were before, heavy appetite festering within, seeing this woman as nothing more than an object of pleasure. 

“Get on your knees.”  
He waits hardly a second but impatience takes over and he shoves her down, watching her stare up at him longingly, awaiting another command. The belt holding up his trousers is shed and tossed lazily to the side. Long fingers work to undo the buttons keeping himself hidden away from her, the one thing preventing himself from getting what is required. She assists in this regard, almost just as eager as Tom was. Wanting nothing less than a delayed gratification, both his pants and the boxers underneath are yanked down in one fell swoop and completely removed. 

One hand immediately shifts to touch his cock, mesmerized by its length and by how hard it already was. Eyes are averted upward to once again lock with Tom’s, ready to receive the next command and carry it out with no complaints.

“Serve me well, until I tell you to stop.”

She nods, and keeps staring into his face as his cock is taken into her mouth. Even the initial advancement is enough to derive a reaction. Tom leans back, allowing his head to make contact with the wall, finding it to be a wonderful resting spot. The movements provided are gentle so far. A good start, but leaving much to be desired. She still carries hesitation in her body, not ready to completely open up to someone such as the man giving commands. No matter; he will prod her to open herself, to give herself up and devote her every move to his cause. 

One of those large hands reaches for the woman’s hair, locating the pins holding the updo together. Each one is pulled out with desperation and thrown away, forgotten about as soon as they leave his fingers. Hair cascades down, somewhat messy, giving Tom something to hold onto. Fingers are slid into those locks, tightening around them and pressing to the back of her head. Tom demands more of her by pushing her further down onto his cock, forcing her lips to take in more of the length that was yet to be explored. With that, a small smirk comes to his face and hips are shifted forward, going deeper into the girl, deeper than she appeared to have expected. Eyes widened and cheeks began to hollow out, more energy dedicated to him and him only. Focus was spent nowhere else, only on the cock buried far inside her mouth and the man to whom it belonged, a man she knew was patiently waiting to move on to other things, another way to bring himself immense delectation. 

Quick little thrusts are made. He feels himself hitting the back of her throat, generating some gagging sounds from the girl below him. Closed mouth groans find their way into the air. Those sounds seem to only invigorate her, filling her with more determination, a greater will to play into all the desires that Tom seeks to fulfill tonight. She takes even more of his cock, starting to feel the pain naturally associated. Eyebrows furrow, and yet she continues, both hands moving up to grasp the base of his member, beginning to stroke up and down, movements synchronised with those of her mouth. Her hold on him is only released when no room is left; she takes him as deep as he will go and as far as her throat will allow, eyes refusing to leave him. Riddle grants himself permission to let out a real moan, a low one, and still quiet, but one that permits this girl to feel the slightest bit of appreciation.

Tom finally allows his dark hued optics to find hers, and when he does, it is an overwhelming sight. The way she looks up at him with such lust, such pining, fills him with ecstasy, realizing that he has succeeded in winning her over, convincing the girl that there was no greater priority in this existence than making him, her superior in every genuine aspect, happy. Both hands come down now, holding onto her head, forcing it down the farthest distance yet. The smirk of his lips widens as he watches with joy, seeing this woman take the pain he gave her with no complaints, just the way he liked it. Gagging sounds from a few minutes prior gain volume, turning into something resembling a cough, and tears start to form in those unwavering eyes. Riddle accepts this as a victory. One final thrust is given, as with it, a flood of cum drips into her mouth, feeding her. Every last drop is swallowed, and his cock is pulled from her with a quick jerk of the hips from Riddle. It takes a moment for the girl to recover, breathing heavily and dealing with the occasional cough. A hand moves to massage her throat, but that action is stopped almost as quickly as it begins. Tom grabs that arm by the wrist and pulls it back. He grins down at her and gently shakes his head.

“There’s no time for that. Go lay down on the bed, and don’t move another muscle.”

His direction is followed. She strides over to the bed and lays on it horizontally, fully clothed, waiting for Tom to return to her, to see what he has planned. He watches her go and smiles when the command is followed through on so easily. It was almost pathetically effortless getting her to do as he said. The hold Riddle had over this woman was powerful. All evidence would predict that if requested to walk out into the middle of the street naked, she would do so. A part of Tom was disappointed. This presented no challenge, no engaging factor pulling him in. Yet the prospect of getting to fuck a woman who so clearly wanted it, who would allow him to have his way with her . . that was something to get excited about. First, his tie is loosened and released into the pile of his clothes already forming on the floor. The coat to his suit follows shortly after, then all the buttons to his dress shirt are undone, that garment removed with fervor as well. 

Riddle stands, fully naked, waiting just a quick couple seconds before walking over to the bed where this girl stayed still, gaze drifting to follow Tom and his position. The heels she wore were unstrapped and pulled off, promptly being dropped to the floor. It is that stunning dress that fascinates him most. A hand is placed just below the collarbone, feeling just how soft the skin there was. One finger traces down the middle of her chest, sending a shiver cursing through her veins and causing goosebumps to erupt along the length of both arms. Tom takes a moment to once again admire the dress. He feels the fabric, enjoying how easily it rubs together, loving how cool it is to the touch, mostly reveling in how wonderful it made her body look, so enticing. Few more seconds glance is given before his other hand joins the other, and together they move down to grip onto different sides of the open neckline, taking a fistful of fabric. With one sharp pull, Riddle manages to tear right through the silk, all the way down, exposing all of her chest, finally giving him an opportunity to see what her breasts look like when they’re not covered up. The remnants of the dress are tugged out from underneath her body and disposed of, sending them backwards without as much of a second glance, not caring what happens to that irrelevant slice of destroyed material. All that is left blocking him from viewing her body the way it was meant to be viewed are the pair of underwear covering the most important part of her, the bits he needs to feel fully satisfied. His middle and pointer fingers hook around the band before heaving it down and up, gliding those panties down to her ankles before finally having removed that final article of clothing.

“Lay down properly now. The way a bed ought to be laid on.”  
Words are spoken as if to mock her stupidity and foolishness, though in reality Tom only means to emphasize what he wants done, and done fast at that. 

He descends down on her with a kiss placed directly in the middle point between her breasts, dragging his lips across smooth skin until they found a resting spot on her nipple. It hardened the moment his tongue flicked over the tip, swirling around over and over, mimicking a carousel made for Muggles, perpetually rotating, never slowing down. Soft whimpers are drawn from her, legs wrapping around his torso, carefully pulling him in closer. One hand runs up from her waist up her sides until it clasps itself around the breast not being shown attention. He squeezes it hard, thumb going back and forth, brushing over the sensitive nipple, occasionally pinching at the hardening bud. Tom uses his other hand in an even more effective way, placing it in the soft spot between her legs, rubbing her to create more friction, intending to make her somehow more wet than she already was. Riddle was blessed with digits longer than those of the average male, a gift that he was thankful for in moments like these. Minimal effort is exerted and the result is exactly what was desired. Legs are spread more wide, beckoning him in, begging him to finally give her to release she so deeply craves. The more he rubs her, the more her thighs start to twitch, overcome with complete euphoria. Whimpers turn to soft moans of his name, her small hand reaching to tangle itself into his hair, circling around on the scalp beneath it, trying anything to get him to enter her.

Sitting up, relaxed onto his thighs, Tom admires her once more, paying close attention to her face, how it pleads for him, wanting him so badly. His cock is taken in between his thumb and his pointer finger, and he brings himself back down close to her. Propped up by one elbow, the bright pink tip of his length is pressed up against her opening, lips locating themselves onto her neck, sucking hard on the sensitive skin there, intent on leaving her with a few reminders of this encounter, ones not soon to be forgotten about.

Her hips start pushing forward, feeling just how hard he is teasing her, wanting to push him deeper into her hole, taking matters into her own hands. With every shift of her hips, the end of his cock goes the slightest bit farther in, clashing against the side of her insides, sparking little nodes of pleasure. She whines each time, savoring the tiny bit of him she has managed to grab hold of.

Tom takes note of this and decides to use it to his advantage. He bites down onto her neck hard, lightly bruising the skin caught in the middle of his teeth. She lets out another whimper, this one louder than any previous. His head is lifted up, changing positions to go nibble at her ear, in the perfect spot to whisper yet another request.

“Beg for me, like the little whore you are.”

Her neck arches, along with her back. The little hip movements are incessant, as she finds herself unable to curb the need to feel even just the tip of him.

“Please, sir . . I need you, I need you so bad.” She can barely get the words out, too overwhelmed by the sensations taking over, making her lose control of her own body.

“You’ll have to do better than that, darling. Why should I fuck someone like you? What makes you deserve this?”  
His hand was pushing his cock in more, not much, but enough to show a difference. Arms come around his neck, nails extending down to his back, digging in with caution. 

“I’ll do whatever you want, I swear. Just please, I want you to fuck me so hard, I need you to fuck me so hard, sir, please.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”  
Tom pushes the full length of his cock inside her, slowly, taking his time. He releases a groan and he feels just how tight she is, just asking to be stretched out, bestowing the honor of doing unto him. She lets out a moan, laced with pain, that gets louder the deeper he gets.

He lets more of his weight full down on her, pushing her thighs even further apart and down, giving him much better access than he had been privy to before. She tightens her legs around him, drawing him in further, feeling as though he is about to puncture into places no man has ever gone before. The thrusting begins, slowly at first, retracting to a point where he almost falls out of her entrance before pushing his cock all the way back in, feeling the entire extent of her insides, leaving not a single portion untouched. 

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?”  
Not like she had a choice. But he wanted to hear her say it regardless. 

“As hard as you want, sir.”  
Truly a perfect answer.

His response is to change his rhythm, altering the pace only slightly. He still copies the same starting method as before, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains in. This time, however, upon each reentrance, he slams the full length of his member back into her. The process is repeated over and over and over, bringing out moans of discomfort from the girl. That only motivated Tom; her pain would become his greatest pleasure. He continued, loving the combination of sounds produced, whether it be the noise when their skin collided so harshly or the cries of agony sent out with each forceful thrust. 

“You like that?” He asked her with a grin on his face, mid-thrust, ending the question with a loud grunt of triumph. Speaking was out of the question for her; the only response elicited from the inquiry was a series of quick nods. 

This was not good enough for him. Riddle functioned off of power, and that translated into the bedroom. Causing pain was a wonderful feeling for him, but he needed more. Total and utter domination, an unrelenting force, something to be reckoned with.  
The pace at which he thrusted into her was increased steadily, strokes getting faster, that familiar sound of skin colliding becoming a metronome to the pair of them. He was fucking her hard, just the way she had requested it, and just the way he felt best doing. Her insides were so coated that he slid back and forth, in and out of her, with ease. She kept moaning, no longer finding any need to stifle her volume, if anything, she would want someone to hear just how loud she was calling his name, just to show off what an excellent lover he made out to be.

One misstep came when her arms pushed back against his shoulders, without intention, seemingly trying to relieve herself of some of the pain radiating through her lower half. Riddle took this as a great insult, as though she was telling him that what he was doing was not suited to her liking, as though insinuating that a change was required. This was far from the truth, and yet Tom took it as such. 

He raised up from her and both hands came down upon her neck, adding an excess of pressure, threatening to close off her supply of air, with the potential to bring her close to the brink of death. Not that it would ever happen; she was no use to him dead, she was still his to fuck for as long as she stayed in this house. It was a threat, one enforcing the idea that insulting him was in the best interests of nobody. 

“Don’t you dare try and tell me what I can’t do, you fucking whore.”

As he choked her, the movements of his hips got stronger, fucking her further into the bed, strokes full of passion and power, determined to teach her a lesson.

She gasped for air, arms removed from his neck and instead placing those fingers on top of his hands. Her mouth remained wide open, eyes wide with terror, pleading with him to let her breath again. Yet there was something in her face that told him how much she was still enjoying this, from the constant look of determination in her eyes to the moans that so desperately wanted to be released from her throat. Thrusts were continued at that same aggressive pace until he felt the familiar pull from within him, letting him know the culmination of his efforts was on the horizon. Tom closed his eyes, losing himself entirely in the thoughts of how her insides felt and nothing else. Every other matter was irrelevant, all that was important was the rush of his cock burrowing itself so deep inside her that it was a miracle it ever came back out. His hands even released some tension from her neck, though the choking remained steady, only eased up for the tiniest drop of mercy. Moans once again filled the air, a sweet sound that had been dearly missed in its brief absence. 

His orgasm hit him not long after. Cum flowed into her, filling her up. Breathless, his cock was pulled out of her, though he himself did not collapse onto the bed beside her. Tom was selfish, and his high demands had not yet been met. To fuck her one last time for the evening was the thing he craved most, more than anything else. 

So he set to work on regaining his erection, a task that would not be difficult with such thoughts on his mind. He stroked at his own cock hard, hell-bent on bringing himself back to the length he had experienced mere minutes prior.

She fixated on his hand movements, knowing exactly what it meant for her and her already sore insides. This was a man not easily satisfied, even by such intense sex as the kind they just experienced. He always needed more, and through it all, she was still happy to provide. The thought running through her mind was regarding which way he would take her this time. Eyes were closed as the woman imagined all the different positions he could utilize her.

Tom gets himself ready once more, and he reaches over for her, grabbing her by the torso and lifting her up. She was taken into his arms, a much more intimate position than she was expecting. To the woman, it is a position of closeness, even love. To him, it is nothing more than a new angle to penetrate her from, a way to reach spots within her cavities that had yet to be touched by him and his length. 

She reaches around his neck, embracing him and resting her head against his shoulder. Legs can rest lazily against the mattress, one on either side of his body, opening herself up for him. Resting in his lap like that, it is easy to feel his erection rubbing against her skin, preparing to be forced deep inside once more. He holds her waist, gripping it hard, leaving red imprints wherever his hands go. Their lips are locked together for a passionate kiss, him biting at her bottom lip, pulling on it as she releases more moans, eyes closed as she readies herself for the inevitable.

Riddle thrusts inside her again, jerking his hips upward to combat the challenge of this new angle. He wastes no time with a slow pace, opting to go straight for the rough strokes that the both of them cherished. The kiss is broken, though neither allows space to separate them, pressing their foreheads, covered in sweat, back together. When Riddle grows tired of that, his lips are shifted to find a home on both her collarbone and her neck, planting strong kisses there, though not strong enough to leave any bruises or scratches. One hand leaves her waist and lands on the side of her neck, pressing into it for a much subtler compression than what she received before. The girl smirks, given the opportunity to enjoy this restriction of air, realizing just how euphoric it feels under the right circumstances.

The way he fucks her this time is more special to her, somehow making her feel more protected. That feeling guides her to reach her absolute high, whimpering loudly, almost screaming as her orgasm is achieved. Tom feels the discharge coat his cock, bringing him more pleasure and pulling him in to experience that culmination for himself. More time is allowed for it to build, harder thrusts flung into her until finally, he is completely satisfied.

The pair collapse down onto the sheets, now laced with a smell only associated with digressions such as these. They experience it with joy, elated by the productivity of their time together. She feels an ache with every movement of her legs. The ability to walk was stolen away. A test of this theory was unnecessary; it was obvious from the way her entire lower half felt. Words are not shared between Tom and the woman. What just happened caused an utter loss for words.

Tom stands up and climbs out of bed, walking over to collect the pile of his clothes abandoned on the floor. She rolls over onto her stomach and sees the thing that once resembled a dress. A smile comes to her lips.

“You destroyed my outfit. What am I meant to wear?”

He turns and moves back to her, hand grabbing her chin and lifting it upward, thumb circling slowly over her swollen lips, his amused expression matching hers.

“I suppose you’ll have to stay then.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can check out my twitter at @96SDICAPRIO for writing updates and maybe even requests:)) thanks for reading!!


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